You live in,
A broken home,
With a shattered window,
And a disconnected phone.
You travel with,
Your broken feet,
With rough pathways,
Leading to a blocked off street.
You see through,
Black and white eyes,
With a look so unwelcoming, tiring,
As you're badly disguised.
You sing as,
A bird in the woods,
Soothing and caring,
But fading away from the neighbourhoods.
I listen to your broken voice,
On a broken street,
With your broken eyes,
Hearing your broken heart beat.
And now I'm slowly breaking,
Make room for me,
Because with you on a broken street,
Is where I'm destined to be.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 5:27 PM UTC
You live in,
A broken home,
With a shattered window,
And a disconnected phone.
You travel with,
Your broken feet,
With rough pathways,
Leading to a blocked off street.
You see through,
Black and white eyes,
With a look so unwelcoming, tiring,
As you're badly disguised.
You sing as,
A bird in the woods,
Soothing and caring,
But fading away from the neighbourhoods.
I listen to your broken voice,
On a broken street,
With your broken eyes,
Hearing your broken heart beat.
And now I'm slowly breaking,
Make room for me,
Because with you on a broken street,
Is where I'm destined to be.
